Bite Hard
by Countess Jackman
Summary: She tickles his fancy. He gives her headaches. It's an equal yet opposite attraction that neither want, but can't quite fight unless they bite hard. Kirk/OC
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Quinn McKnight did not enjoy the bright, flashing lights and throbbing music of nightclubs nor the almost animalistic way in which people danced. That was if one could call all of the bumping, grinding, and limb flailing occurring on the floor, truly dancing. No, she much preferred the comfortable and smoky atmosphere of hole-in-the-wall bars, such as Pickled Pete's and the Grunge, where she knew the bartenders as if they were members of her own immediate family and she could hustle people out of their credits over a game of pool. However, she was an easily persuaded - and easily agitated – person; especially after enduring several minutes of her roommate's senseless babbling and constant pleading. Quinn had caved, saying yes without really knowing why.

Though her roommate, Lorraine, had promised a good time along with drinks on her, the main inspiration for Quinn's sudden agreement was the sole purpose of shutting the girl up. Sure, Lorraine was a nice person with "good intentions", but once she started talking, it was damn near – no, _nigh_ impossible to get her to stop. Moreover, she didn't respond to sarcasm, which made Quinn's existence all the more difficult, though whether it was because Lorraine was overly optimistic or Quinn's sarcasm went over her pretty blond head had yet to be determined.

Now that she was out in public, however, the music pulsating around her and altering the pace of her heart, Quinn was beginning to regret her snap decision. _Well_, she thought to herself, _that's not entirely true_.

She had begun to lament her hasty accord long before they had even left the apartment, when Lorraine had thought it necessary to tear through the majority of Quinn's clothes, successfully destroying the closet and scattering garments all over the previously clean floor in an attempt to find something "suitable" for the brunette to wear. Apparently, it was "stupid" to wear jeans and a tee shirt to a club, especially a club like Ricochet, and it was almost certain that she would look "ridiculous" if she did.

It had only taken a few selective words to drop Quinn's mood for moderately excited to. . .well, something less than exuberant. So far, the only thing that had managed to spark a mild flame of interest within her was the cold beer that her slim, calloused fingers currently gripped. _The beer that I paid for_, she thought darkly, _even though Lorraine had promised to pick up the tab_.

She rolled her eyes to herself, taking a swift drink from the long neck bottle. The moment they had stepped foot into the club, Lorraine spotted some of her other friends and ran off to join them on the dance floor, thus breaking her promise to Quinn. But she supposed that her roommate couldn't help that her attention span was practically non-existent.

She sighed, pushing a hand through her hair as she contemplated her own stupidity. Quinn considered herself an intelligent person with a firm set of instincts, but this wasn't one of her shining moments. Especially since this wasn't the first time that Quinn had been ditched by her roommate. The last time she had tagged along with Lorraine, she was tossed aside like a rag doll, left to fend, and pout for herself the rest of the evening. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, again, this time at herself, she lifted the bottle to her lips and quickly drained the remains. A shiver passed through her as the cold draught made its way down her throat, settling in, and oddly enough, warming her belly.

Quinn waved at the bartender, gesturing towards the now-empty beer bottle in her hand. He narrowed his dark eyes at her, which caused her to frown. Did she do something wrong? Had she offended him in some way? Normally, she didn't care whether or not she offended someone, but this man was standing in her way of another beer. She would - well, she wouldn't get down on her knees and beg, but she was desperate. The way she figured, if she wasn't going to hang around Lorraine, which, admittedly, was something of a godsend, she might as well get plastered.

After a few minutes of failed attempts to get another beer, she released an aggravated gust of air. "Asshole," she muttered under her breath, her feathers thoroughly ruffled. She swiveled in her seat, turning her back to the bar, leaning her elbows on the lip of the countertop for balance.

To say that the club was crowded simply wouldn't suffice - it was packed. Everywhere she looked, people, both human and humanoid alike, were pressed against each other, whether by choice or not. However, they all appeared to be enjoying themselves, laughing and chatting with others as they sipped on their alcoholic beverages, some more animated than others. Her vision turned green very briefly as the jealousy took a deep stab in her chest.

Saying that Quinn lacked adequate social skills would be a severe understatement. Trying to communicate with others, especially people her own age, was like pulling teeth: unpleasant and at times, downright awkward. Her mother attributed this to her hesitancy to commit herself to even the simplest of relationships. She was too guarded, too paranoid of what would happen if she made herself too vulnerable; she could count the number of people she trusted on one hand. Though she had never had a knife wedged into her back, she had known plenty of others, namely her mother, who had and Quinn wasn't willing to subject herself to that sort of treatment. Not when it could be avoided.

As most things, her jealousy quickly passed, replaced by her innate curiosity. Observing people was one of her favorite pastimes, one that she indulged in quite often. She knew that it was impolite to stare, but she couldn't help herself. Similar to nail biting, it was one of those annoying habits she didn't even realize she was doing until it was too late.

Her eyes roved over the crowd, skipping over the chattering bunch that had caused her internal evaluation in the first place, instead focusing her attention on the dance floor. She tried not to grimace as she took in the sight of the writhing bodies pressed closely together. It wasn't exactly the most attractive thing to behold, especially since nearly everyone was covered from head to toe in sweat and most likely, the person they were dancing with was a complete stranger. The idea of a stranger's hands roaming over her body evoked a faint feeling of nausea. Thankfully, she hadn't drunk enough to actually spew anything, though a part of her was vaguely disappointed that she could process this thought.

So much for getting hammered like she had intended on doing.

Once she had had her fill of observing the dance floor, Quinn turned back to the bar, hoping that she would be much more successful this time in her attempt of flagging down the bartender. She highly doubted that she would be which was why the exit was beginning to look extremely tempting, even if she had only been in the club for a little less than forty minutes. At least she would be able to change out of the horrendously short dress Lorraine had practically forced her to wear and into clothes that were much more comfortable. And maybe, just maybe, there might be some beer left in their refrigerator.

A lick of excitement flared through her. Maybe she should just give up now while she was -

"What can I get you?" came the grumbling growl of the bartender.

Quinn's brown eyes widened in shock. She hadn't expected him to respond to her insistent flagging. In fact, she had been hoping that he would not so she would have an excuse to go home.

"Um." She gnawed her bottom lip nervously, trying to remember what she had ordered. Was it Budweiser or Heineken? Hm, maybe she wasn't as sober as she had initially pegged herself to be. "I'll have what I was drinking before…"

The bartender sent her a inquisitive look. A look that was eerily similar to the ones she received from her mother when she said or did something stupid. "And what was that?" he drawled, his agitation evident on his heavy face as his eyes drilled holes into her forehead.

She glanced at the bottle in her hand, the words slightly blurred. Quinn shook her head in an attempt to clear her vision. Ah. A green bottle. "A Heineken. Please," she replied, smiling tightly at the bartender.

His eyes remained steely, his expression unchanged, as he stalked away to fill her order.

"Nice choice," a pleasant voice said.

Quinn turned her head to the left to look at the person who had spoken to her. Her eyebrows rose fractionally - she had been expecting a greasy monkey with tattoos, not a pretty boy. Briefly, her eyes took in the angular planes of his face and the hue of his blue eyes. _A _very_ pretty boy_, she thought, fighting off a smile. However, Quinn quickly discovered the most distracting thing about the newcomer was his incredibly full lips. Subconsciously, she dragged her tongue along her bottom lip.

* * *

_A/N: As you might have surmised, this is my first endeavour into the Star Trek territory, and I must say that I was – and still am - very frightened to post this in fear of getting tomatoes thrown at me from all directions for royally screwing this up, but my friend and awesome beta, KD Skywalker, changed my mind. I owe her mad props. Oh, I don't own anything aside from Quinn and Lorraine. _


	2. One

_Previously…._

"_Nice choice," a pleasant voice said._

_Quinn turned her head to the left to look at the person who had spoken to her. Her eyebrows rose fractionally - she had been expecting a greasy monkey with tattoos, not a pretty boy. Briefly, her eyes took in the angular planes of his face and the hue of his blue eyes. A very pretty boy, she thought, fighting off a smile. However, Quinn quickly discovered the most distracting thing about the newcomer was his incredibly full lips. Subconsciously, she dragged her tongue along her bottom lip._

Chapter One:

"P-pardon me?" she stupidly stammered, momentarily dumb struck.

"I said 'nice choice'," he repeated, tacking on a smile. She furrowed her brow, seeking further clarification. He picked up the silent hint. "In beer," added the blue-eyed stranger as he gestured towards the same green-tinged bottle that was in his hand as well.

"Oh," was all she could say as the proverbial cat effectively caught her tongue in its wicked claws.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man frown. "I must say that your taste in clothing isn't bad either. That dress. . ." he trailed off suggestively, his eyes dropping away from her face to her body.

She felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny, pulling at the hemline of the dress and silently cursing Lorraine to the darkest depths of Hell. "It's not mine," she said in a rush. "It belongs to a friend."

The man smirked. "Remind me to thank your friend." He winked at her, tipping his beer in her direction in a mock-salute.

"I would, if I knew where to find her," Quinn divulged, taking a moment to look over her shoulder at the thrashing crowd. She could hardly distinguish body from body, let alone a specific hair color amongst the sea of people. A frown overtook her lips as she wondered where the blasted bartender was with her drink. Having something in her hands would take her mind off the growing awkwardness of the encounter.

"Did you lose her?" the stranger inquired curiously.

Quinn shook her head. "No. She ditched me."

He sputtered on his mouthful of beer. She narrowed her eyes at him, silently challenging him to laugh openly at her. To his credit, he managed to swallow his laughter and said, with a most stoic expression, "That wasn't very nice of her."

Unable to help herself, Quinn snorted. "She's not a very nice person."

"Then why'd you call her a friend?"

Quinn studied him for a prolonged moment before responding. "Don't you think that's a bit of a personal question to be asking someone you just met?" She paused to raise an eyebrow at him. "I don't even know your name."

"I can fix that." The stranger pulled a hand from his pocket and held it out to her. "James Kirk, but you can call me Jim."

She hesitated, her hand hovering a few inches above the bar top. Returning his handshake would be accepting his self-invitation to join her at the bar, which was very uncharacteristic of her. Besides, her gut was telling her to look alive, that he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, yet she couldn't see what was actually wrong with him. A lightning bolt of annoyance shot through her as she tried and failed, to pinpoint what it was.

A taunting smile played at his lips. "Don't worry, I won't bite. At least, not too hard. Or so I've been told…"

For the first time in a while, Quinn went against her instincts, slipping her hand into his. If he felt the calluses on her palm, he didn't say anything. He continued to smile at her, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Instinctively, her stomach tightened.

Quinn was the first to break the handshake, dropping his hand as quickly as she had taken it. She could feel his eyes studying her intensely as she returned her hand to the bar top, her fingers curling inward.

"What? You get to know my name, but I don't get yours? I don't think that's very fair." His tone was light and joking, just like his eyes.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that life isn't fair, Jim?" She put heavy emphasis on his name for the sake of annoying him. As soon as she did, she froze.

Oh, no. She wasn't actually _flirting_ with him. . .was she?

He laughed. "I think I've been told that a few times, yeah." He smiled at her again. "Come on," he said as he settled himself on the stool beside her. She retracted her elbow, wanting to avoid all physical contact. "Just tell me already. The suspense is killing me."

"Really? Because you look perfectly fine to me," she quipped, earning another laugh from him.

"You're funny," he stated in a matter-of-fact voice after he drained the last of his beer.

"Not really, you're just easy."

"Oh, am I?" he said raising an eyebrow at her, another smirk plastered on his face.

It took a few moments for the effect of her words to sink in. When they did, she flushed, thoroughly embarrassed as her ears burned. "I meant that you were easy to make fun of. Not that you were, you know, _easy_."

"I'm sure you did," he replied evenly, the twinkle returning to his eyes. "But I can be easy if you want," he muttered under his breath so lowly Quinn wasn't entirely sure she had heard him correctly.

She blinked. "I beg your pardon? What'd you say?"

"Nothing of importance," Kirk said, smiling charmingly at her. "Just that your eyes are really beautiful."

The after-effects of his smile vanished in a puff of smoke. Quinn laughed, flicking her supposedly beautiful eyes towards the ceiling. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't just say that."

"That was a bad line, wasn't it?"

"You could've done better," Quinn said.

It turned out that she was right: he could do much better. As they conversed, Quinn found Jim Kirk to be one of the most charming men she had even encountered in her life. Granted, she didn't have much experience with men, but she found that she was enjoying herself in his company. She laughed at his jokes and returned the witty banter with an enthusiasm that had been absence for much too long. Apparently, Quinn was the only person the bartender had chosen to ignore as every time Kirk flagged him down; he set two cool bottles of Heineken down on the countertop. She wasn't complaining; like most, the alcohol gave her a certain level of confidence that she would've otherwise lacked and it was easier to engage in conversation.

By the time, the bartender returned with her sixth beer of the night, the world was more than slightly fuzzy and Kirk had yet to figure out her name. For the better part of an hour, he had been attempting to guess what it was, but failing miserably.

"Is it. . .Penelope? Penny, for short?"

"No, but when I was little I had a guinea pig named Suzy."

"How is that relevant?"

"It's not. I'm just trying to distract you."

"You're distracting enough as it is," he commented, smiling softly at her. She blushed from the roots of her hair down to her toes. "Hmm. I've guessed Anne, Samantha, Bridget, Callie, Gertrude, Stacey, Amanda, Christine, Kelly, Jane, Allison, Mary Sue, Justine, Marie, Lisa, and Angelica, and not one of them is correct."

"You forgot Bernice," Quinn said as she polished off her beer. When she waved her hand dismissively in the air, she was surprised when the bartender set a cool Heineken down in front of her. "Thanks," she muttered to his retreating back.

"I didn't guess Bernice."

"Well, now you know that's not my name." She laughed at his expression. "Don't look so wounded, Mr. Kirk. You'll figure it out eventually."

"Or you could just tell me," he suggested.

"Where's the fun in that?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "If I'd known this was going to be an uphill struggle, I wouldn't have accepted."

Quinn furrowed her eyebrows. "Accepted what?"

He paled slightly, taking longer than usual to respond. "Your invitation to sit down, of course."

"Aye, but I didn't invite you," Quinn pointed out. "You just assumed I did."

"Don't I look like an ass now," Kirk joked.

She laughed, tossing back her head. "Yeah, but at least you're a cute one."

"You think I'm cute?"

"Maybe," she returned with a shrug as a sly smile spread across her face.

Wow. She really was _flirting_!

He vaguely noted the change in song – and obviously, her sly smile, as inspiration struck him like a bullet. "Do you want to dance?" he asked suddenly.

Quinn slopped beer down the front of Lorraine's dress in surprise. "What?"

Kirk laughed at her reaction. "Do you want to dance?"

She went rigid, but her shock at his unexpected question was replaced by dread. _Dammit! That's what I get for flirting, _she thought to herself as she frantically shook her head. "No."

"Why not? Do you have two left feet?"

"Yes," Quinn insisted adamantly.

Kirk regarded her for several silence moments before slipping off his stool. He surprised her by holding out a hand. "I don't believe you."

"You don't believe me?" she parroted incredulously. "Why not? If I say I can't dance, I can't dance!"

"Bullshit." He watched as her eyes flashed angrily, something he had not expected but found he enjoyed. "Everyone can dance," Kirk said matter-of-factly. "Especially after," he paused to count the number of green bottles sitting on the counter in front of her. "Seven beers."

"Six," she corrected. "I've only had a sip of this one."

He ignored her comment and wiggled his fingers at her. His smile was inviting. "Come on. I'm not accepting 'no' for an answer."

A heavy, begrudging sigh passed through her lips. "Fine, fine," she grumbled, stumbling to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly underneath her and she was light-headed. She lightly pressed a hand to her temple as she said, "Don't say I didn't warn you when you end up with a broken toe…or two."

Kirk laughed as he took her hand, weighing her to the ground like an anchor. "I consider myself warned," he said as he led her out towards the packed dance floor.

Her stomach squirmed as he pulled her into the densest part of the crowd. The rise in temperature was apparent. Almost immediately, sweat began to accumulate at the back of her neck and along her hairline. She could feel her hand becoming clammy within Kirk's grip and she desperately wanted to pull back, but she knew that he wasn't going to let her back out of dancing. His hand remained tight on hers until he found what he believed to be a suitable spot for them to dance.

Right smack in the middle of it all.

Quinn wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. She wasn't much of a dancer because she lacked the rhythm needed to partake in such an activity. Awkwardness threatened to descend upon her, but was quickly combated when Kirk spun her around, his hand still holding hers, and brought her closer to his body, her back pressed firmly against his chest. Her limbs stiffened.

Kirk ran his free hand up the side of her arm, raising goose bumps, as his fingers brushing her hair to the side. "Relax," he whispered in her ear. He smirked to himself when she shivered, her body responding instantly to his command.

The rhythm of the song picked up, but neither moved. His hand lingered on her neck, the pads of his fingers resting gently on her pulse point. Her heart was fluttering wildly despite their lack of physical activity. He stroked the side of her neck, eliciting the smallest of moans from her and then, slowly but surely, they fell into a steady rhythm. It wasn't smooth by any standards, but it was a constant movement, which was a huge improvement.

When Kirk's hands fell away from her neck and came to rest on her hips, Quinn wondered why she had ever criticized the people who danced in this fashion. While it wasn't natural, it was comfortable, and she found that she was actually enjoying herself, enjoying the exchange of body heat. As the beat progressed, so did the sway of her hips and the pressure of his hands.

Somewhere along the line, she gathered up the courage to turn and face Kirk, who smirked widely as she hesitantly looped her arms around his neck. He placed a hand on the small of her back, his fingers splayed, and drew her closer, leaving no space whatsoever between them. When she looked up at him, his eyes were sparkling with the same mischief she'd seen earlier in the evening.

"What's your name?" he asked in a low, husky voice.

"Quinn," she replied without hesitation. "My name is Quinn."

"I'm going to kiss you now, Quinn."

And his mouth descended upon hers.

Quinn's reaction was instantaneous. Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling his face closer to hers. His response was enthusiastic as well, his tongue discreetly parting her lips and slipping into her mouth. The tips of his fingers dug deep into the flesh of her hips, but it wasn't painful. No, it was. . .pleasurable; it encouraged her to press herself all the more closely to the line of his body. They were so close that she could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart, the hard line of his stomach.

Disappointment consumed her when he broke the kiss. "What is it?" she asked, unsure if she wanted to hear his answer. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Kirk said quickly. "You didn't do anything wrong. Nothing at all." He smiled down at her again, his hand briefly cupping her cheek. Her heart gave a pathetic flutter. "It's just that I remembered I left my wallet on the bar." He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, obviously seeing something that she couldn't. "Wait here, will you?"

He was gone before she could respond, the crowd consuming him as he walked away.

Quinn frowned, touching her fingers to her lips. Something didn't seem right. The knotting sensation in her stomach could attest to that. Despite her better judgment, she decided to push her way out of the crowd and find Jim. As she nudged people out of the way, she realized just how difficult it would have been for him to relocate her in the crowd. Dread clutched at her - maybe that was his intention. She growled in frustration, administering a particularly rough elbow into the side of a young woman. Finally, she managed to break out of the throng of people, though she was on the complete opposite side of the club.

Smoothing her sweat-tinged hair with a hand, she maneuvered her way through the chatters and waitresses, nearly hitting her head on the edge of a serving tray on its way to the VIP section. It took her several minutes to find the place where she and Jim had sat, but when she did, she discovered a very unsettling sight.

Lorraine was leaning close to Jim, her lips close to his ear. When she pulled away, he laughed, a wide smile on his face. Quinn couldn't tell what he was saying, but the next thing she knew, he was holding out his hand and Lorraine was slapping a pile of credits into his palm.

Quinn was too stunned to react, though her conscience and gut were chanting _we told you so, we told you so, we told you so _like a small child would. Whether by chance or by fate, Lorraine happened to look over in Quinn's direction and the blond waved at her enthusiastically, beckoning her to join them. She shook her head just as Kirk glanced over his shoulder to see who Lorraine was waving at.

His face went pale white when he caught sight of her expression. He took a step towards her, but Quinn gave a firm shake of her head, though he didn't seem to notice, or care, as he started to walk faster.

Quick as whip, she turned on her heel and hurried towards the door, abandoning the sticky atmosphere of the club for the cool evening air. The sweat coating her skin turned cold, much like her feelings had when she saw Kirk accepting the credits from her roommate - the girl who was supposed to be her friend.

_Some friend! More like backstabber!_

Quinn felt like vomiting. She was so sick to her stomach, so sick with herself! How could she have been so stupid? So naïve? How could she have fallen for his charm? She should have known he was playing her like the pathetic fool she was.

A scoff fell from her lips as she shook her head, absolutely disgusted with herself. She had broken her own rule: never go against your gut feelings. And because of her own self-betrayal, she was now being forced to pay the price. She might not have been slapped but her face felt numb; she doubted that her mouth would ever return to normal after her jaw dropped so quickly in outrage when she had seen the scene just a few minutes ago.

Subconsciously bringing a hand to the side of her face, Quinn was too distracted to hear the door open, the music spilling out into the dark night.

"There you are!" Lorraine exclaimed in dramatic relief. She stumbled over to Quinn, who was sitting on a bench near the doors. "I thought you had left already, but here you are!" Lorraine's slurred words were impossible to comprehend. When she sat down, Quinn saw that her eyes were bloodshot, her makeup smeared. "I have an idea!" she proclaimed, laying a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Why don't you come back inside and -" She stopped when Quinn abruptly jerked away from her touch. Lorraine rolled her eyes. "Oh, come _on_, Quinn. Don't be like that. I did it for you so that you would -"

"Have a good time?" Quinn interrupted with a snarl, finishing for the obviously drunk girl. "I think your version of a good time is much different from mine because I clearly don't remember utter humiliation being one of the key aspects!"

Lorraine giggled. "Utter humiliation? Oh, Quinn," she waved a dismissive hand. "Don't be such a drama queen. It's not like anyone else saw you guys making out. 'Sides, he's _hot_, so why should it matter?"

Quinn blinked at her, completely dumbfounded. She knew that Lorraine wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, but she hadn't realized that she was so. . .superficial. "It matters," she began through gritted teeth. "Because you lied to me! Last time I checked, friends don't lie to each other! Nor do they humiliate each other in public!"

She wasn't quite sure if Lorraine's senseless sputtering was the result of her speechlessness or the product of drinking far too much alcohol in such a short span of time. Before her roommate could formulate a response, another voice joined the conversation.

"She's right, you know," Kirk said, his voice irritatingly calm, as he joined the conversation. Quinn gnashed her teeth. "You're being a little overdramatic about this whole thing. So why don't you just listen to your friend's advice and come back inside. I'll even pay for your drinks."

Quinn couldn't bring herself to reply. She was too blinded by the overwhelming temptation to punch him in his pretty face. Right in the nose. She wanted to feel his bone breaking beneath the force of her knuckles and ruin everything that made James Kirk what he was - attractive, charming, and daring. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

"So, what do you say?" he drawled, quirking at brow at her. His blue eyes pinned in her place. For the second time that evening, she squirmed under his scrutiny, her skin feeling as though it was crawling over her bones. "Are you going to come back inside with us and pretend like this never happened or are you going to sit out here and pout?"

He held his hand out for Quinn to take. She grimaced at his palm, her gaze traveling up the length of his arm, over the curve of his shoulder and his neck, and stopping at his face – right on his "pretty" nose that she so desperately wanted to break. Her eyes narrowed as she rose to her feet.

"Go screw yourself," she growled, throwing a contemptuous look in Lorraine's direction before stomping off, leaving a shocked Kirk in her wake.

* * *

_A/N: First of all, I must say a big thank-you to everyone who read and an even bigger one to those of you who reviewed. I can't properly express my gratitude, but know that it is there. Secondly, I have to thank my awesome beta, KD Skywalker. She does a fantastic job and is always great for bouncing ideas. Also, you should check out her Star Trek story "Lost and Found". Trust me when I say you won't be disappointed. Thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed; if you see any problems with the chapter, please let me know. I'm always open for construction criticism and, since I'm not all that familiar with the more technical side of Star Trek, corrections!_


	3. Two

Quinn was walking out of Basic Warp Design, chatting idly with a few of her classmates about the content of the lesson when it happened. The force of the stranger's shoulder colliding with her own was enough to knock her off of her feet, the small stack of PADDs wedged under her arm scattering across the floor.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Heidi asked, sounding extremely concerned. Heidi was one of the only people at Starfleet Academy that Quinn actually liked; she was a nice girl with soft green eyes and a pleasant face.

Quinn gave a nonchalant shrug of her shoulder and winced as a lance of pain shot through bruised muscle. She rubbed the tender flesh with gentle fingertips, not wanting to inflict any unnecessary pain upon herself. "I've been better," she grumbled, pushing herself onto her knees. Her lower back throbbed painfully as she gathered some of her fallen PADDs. She'd had four PADDs before she had fallen; now, she only had three. Her lips quirked downward into a frown. If her father found out that she had been so irresponsible with something so expensive. . .

She shook her head to herself, clearing the image of her father's infuriated expression from her mind. Unless she wanted to witness her father's wrath firsthand via transmission, she needed to locate that blasted PADD or else. She would rather avoid an unnecessary confrontation with her father - their last transmission had been anything but pleasant, and Quinn didn't wish to relive it quiet so soon. If there was anyone who could deduce Quinn to a blubbering mess, it was John McKnight.

Pushing a hand through her thick hair, Quinn continued her search but yielded no results. "Heidi, did you see where -"

"Looking for this?"

Her heart leaped into her throat. Quinn knew that voice. That annoying smooth, pleasantly warm, incredibly _inviting_ voice. She might not have been an expert in linguistics, but she could recognize his voice anywhere, even though she had only heard it once in her life. Then again, it was extremely difficult for Quinn to forget the voice of the bastard who'd played her for a complete fool. Her cheeks burned with the indignation of it all.

For some unknown reason, Quinn lifted her head, shaking her bangs out of her eyes as she craned her neck. When his icy blue eyes locked with her own brown ones, a mile-wide smirk spread across his face, a dimple appearing in his right cheek. She sucked in a deep, startled breath. It felt like someone had driven a tightly clenched fist into the pit of her stomach and gave a rather forceful shove upwards; if she hadn't already been on the floor, she would have been knocked off her feet. She could hardly breathe.

She was going insane from sleep deprivation. Yeah, yeah that was it. That was the only adequate explanation for his presence - he was an illusion, figment of her imagination. There was no fucking way that James T. Kirk was standing in front of her wearing the standard issue uniform of Starfleet Academy and an all-knowing smile on his face. Yet, when she blinked her eyes in rapid succession, he didn't disappear but remained firmly in place. Her teeth gnashed together instinctively - would she never escape him?

"You dropped this," he said, shaking something in her face.

It took a second for Quinn to realize it was her missing PADD. Her _broken_ PADD.

Her stomach plummeted at the sight of the shattered device. It was crushed, like someone had accidentally stepped on it. Or someone had stomped on it intentionally. Her eyes immediately found Kirk's face; his smile was still firmly in place. Quinn swallowed the endless stream of curses balancing precariously on the tip of her tongue, knowing that it wasn't exactly smart to accuse someone of destroying property without hard evidence. Oh, if only looks were enough to incriminate someone - he looked so damn _smug_.

Quinn's fingers curled into a fist as she rose to her feet. Apparently, the desire to drive her fist into his nose, disrupting the pretty finery of it, had yet to leave her system. It felt oddly refreshing, the renewed anger pulsating through her veins. Her initial fear of what her father would say when she told him what had happened receded to the back of her mind, present but absently so. Her annoyance with the sudden appearance of Kirk and the shit-eating grin on his face was omnipresent.

It increased a tenfold when he spoke.

"You should consider taking better care of your belongings, Quinn," Kirk commented, putting heavy emphasis on her name. There was a peculiar twinkle in his ridiculously blue eyes, one that infuriated Quinn more than she could possibly imagine.

"Maybe if you watched where you were going instead of concentrating on the skimpy skirt in front of you, I wouldn't have to," Quinn hissed through gritted teeth, consciously pulling on the hem of her skirt. The regulation uniform for female cadets was obscenely short, and she was very self-conscious about her body, specifically her legs, as skinny and pale as they were.

"Someone's a little feisty today," he quipped, his tone light and joking.

She sighed heavily, wondering what she had done to deserve this. Maybe it was her father's subconscious way of making her pay for the destruction of her PADD. Inwardly, she shook off the thought. It was a stupid notion, but she had always been a trifle superstitious. "Just give it back and I'll be on my way, pretending like you don't exist."

"Ouch," Kirk winced, throwing a dramatic hand over his heart. "That was a bit hurtful, don't you think?"

The words fell from her lips before she could help herself. "The truth hurts - or hasn't anyone told you that yet?" It was a statement her own family members had repeated to her time and time again, reminding her that she couldn't always take things so seriously otherwise she would end up a fragile, introverted mess. A lot of good _that_ did her.

"Wow, you're just full of life lessons, aren't you?" Kirk responded sarcastically, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "First you tell me that life isn't fair, and now you say that the truth hurts. You're like a little pocket Yoda," he continued, his smirk continuing to grow in both size and mocking as he regarded her, silently committing the subtle changes in her expression to memory. "Of course, nowhere near as cute, but nonetheless resourceful."

Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't have time for this, Kirk, I have to be -"

"Oh, so you _do_ remember my name!"

"What? Of course I do," she said dismissively. How could she forget his name, especially when her dreams - which were now more like nightmares, consisted of the very evening he had slinked over to her at the bar and introduced himself? He raised an eyebrow at her, and she swiftly backtracked. "I mean, it's not like I think--"

"It's alright," Kirk interrupted swiftly. "There's no need to be ashamed of it. Admit it, you think about me all the time."

Once again, Quinn made a noise of disgust, arranging her features in a mask of what can only be described as malcontent. "Only about how much I hate you," she growled, her voice rising in volume. "Now give it back!"

A deep crease formed between his brows, the perfect image of imploring innocence. Except that Quinn knew that Jim Kirk was anything but innocence, fixed - and probably much practiced - expression aside. "Give what back?"

"My PADD, you imbecile!"

He quirked an eyebrow at her again, his features easily slipping out of well-honed innocence into something much more playful. Her stomach dropped at the swift change in his expression, a small fear beginning to bubble.

"Are you sure it's your PADD you want back and not your dignity?" he questioned, an oddly serious undertone in his words.

Quinn's eyes widened in both confusion and surprise. "What does my dignity have to do with any of this?"

"Everything," Kirk answered earnestly, sending her a look that clearly questioned her intelligence. "It's the reason why you don't like me, isn't it? You're embarrassed around me."

Her jaw muscles tightened. If she continued to grind her teeth as she currently was, she wouldn't have any teeth to speak of. Though the thought loosened her jaw, it didn't loosen the tightness in her face, the severity of her glare. "No," she countered angrily once she regained a small fraction of self-control, "I don't like you because you're the biggest prick in the Alpha Quadrant! Now give me the damn PADD back!" She lunged for it, but Kirk lifted his arm over his head, effectively putting it out of her reach.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he said, causing Quinn's eyebrows to disappear into her hairline, she was so. . .well, she wasn't entirely sure, but since when do arrogant assholes, like Kirk, quote Shakespeare? And correctly, too. When she didn't say anything in response, he continued, "You want to know what I think?"

"Not really, no, but something tells me you're going to inform me anyway," Quinn deadpanned, absently flicking her eyes at her chrono. How much time had passed since they had, literally, collided with one another? More importantly, where had Heidi run off to?

The left side of his mouth lifted upwards. "I think you don't like me because I saw your vulnerable side - and you like pretending that you're tough. Thick-skinned. But whether you like it or not, you opened up to me in the bar and then went on to make a complete fool of yourself in the parking lot." He saw the vast array of emotions flicker across her face - anger, disbelief, melancholy - and saw the signs of self-betrayal in her dark eyes. "_That's_ why you don't like me."

Quinn glared at him, arms folded across her chest, for a prolonged period of time. Her eyes hard – blazing and smoldering with the anger she was barely able to conceal. She hated him. Everything about him, from the sparkling blue of his eyes to the surprisingly accurate accusations he made against her. Had she really made herself that obvious? They barely knew each other, yet he figured her out already. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He didn't know all that much about her; but he did know why she disliked him, why she had run out of the flashy nightclub after seeing the exchange of credits.

Suddenly, she lunged at him, making a grab at the PADD. Initially, Kirk was caught by surprise, but he possessed a rather decent set of reflexes and was able to pull it out of her reach just in time.

"Give it back!" Quinn demanded, stomping her foot on the ground in frustration.

"Why?"

"Why?" she repeated incredulously. "Because it's mine, jackass!"

"We've established this already."

"Then why do you keep questioning me?!" Quinn asked in exhausted desperation. If they continued sparring - if Kirk continued his evaluation of her - she would be drained both physically and emotionally before she trekked onto her next class. A heavy sigh passed through her lips. "Just give it back so I can go to class."

"Why do you want it back if it's broken? Are you going to fix it?" Kirk pressed.

Her eyes scanned his face, searching for an unknown something, as her mind wondered if he was this persistent in all of his endeavors or if she just brought out the worst in him. She lifted her hand and passed it through her hair, finding the sensation of her nails against her scalp oddly soothing. It was enough to bring her anger down to a tolerable level.

For now.

"I don't know," Quinn finally answered. "Maybe? Does it really matter?"

Kirk lifted a shoulder. "I'm just curious."

"Yeah, well, save your curiosity for another day because I've got Acoustical Engineering next, and the chances are that I'm probably late."

If he was concerned about being late for class, it didn't show on his face. Instead, Kirk whistled lowly through his teeth. "From what I hear, that's a pretty difficult class," he remarked, sounding and looking impressed

She rolled her eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. Now will you -" Quinn stopped mid-sentence and shook her head to herself. This was getting ridiculous. He was trying to make conversation, trying to delay her, possibly even get her in trouble for being late. The stroke of inspiration wasn't profound by any means, but it was sudden. "You know what? Keep it. I don't need it."

"After all that - that _bitching_, you want me to have it?" Kirk sounded skeptical, even a bit shocked.

His expression was enough to elicit a brief laugh from Quinn. "I'm going to be late."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked down the hall only to realize several moments later that her class was in the opposite direction. When she passed by Kirk, he made a comment about her poor sense of direction. Against her will, a small smile tugged at her face, but thankfully, her hair obscured it from his sight. As she weaved through the throng of students, she lifted her hand over her head and flipped him off. She swore she could hear him laughing.

- - -

Kirk glanced down at the broken PADD in his hand, wondering what possessed her to give it to _him_ of all people. He didn't have any use for it. It was broken, for Christ's sake. While he was clever with mechanics - he had built his own bike, whose lost he still lamented - the technology was too advanced, too delicate for him. Then again, he had never met a challenge he didn't like. Quinn was proof of that.

A part of him felt bad for stepping on it but the other half was amused. For one, he never thought that he was ever see her again, and two, it was ironic that he was the one who broke her PADD. Despite her accusatory glare, it wasn't intentional, but a brief lapse in his attention span. Two, she had been correct in her assumption that he hadn't been paying attention because he _was_ "chasing after a skimpy skirt".

Did he feel compelled to apologise to her? No, not at all. Was that peculiar tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach guilt? Perhaps.

He shook his head to himself, stowing the battered PADD in the satchel slung over his shoulder.

Kirk looked up at her retreating form; he could barely see her in the crowded hallway - he hadn't even noticed people were still milling about the halls in an attempt to get to their next class - but he knew that the hand floating about the sea of heads was hers.

He laughed loudly at the gesture, the slight swooping in his stomach triggering a small bout of affection towards her. There was a great deal of things that Kirk was uncertain about, but there was one thing he knew for sure: the next few years were definitely going to be interesting.

- - -

Quinn chewed on her bottom lip, mentally debating what she should do. For the past thirty minutes, she had been trying to gather up the courage to send the request to activate a transmission between herself and her father, but she always pulled her hand back at the last moment, tucking it underneath her leg where it was safe. She wasn't _scared_ of her father, but she _was_ intimidated by him and his imposing features - sharp eyes, hawkish nose, and a wickedly grim mouth. When she was threatened with the impending intimidation that her father represented, Quinn responded in the only way she knew how: with abundant hesitation. It wasn't the confrontation that bothered her, rather it was her father's opinion of his only flesh-and-blood daughter that nagged at the back of her mind.

She didn't have to speculate to know what her father thought of her. In his eyes, she was the only reason why he had married her mother in the first place - in short, she was a burden. A reminder of a few harmless dates and a quick lay. After all, who wanted to marry a woman who already five children of her own from a previous marriage? But John had done the "right" thing, however begrudgingly, and managed to stay with the family until Quinn's fourth birthday. According to her mother, the night her father left, he had said he was going out to the toy store to get a gift for Quinn. He didn't return to their quaint Kansas home until she was nearly eighteen years old.

The memory of his impromptu return stirred a plethora of odd emotions within Quinn. They hadn't been expecting any visitors, so when Quinn punched in the security code to unlock the door and allow the visitor entrance, she was more than a little surprise to see the man she vaguely recognised from old photographs her mother had showed her. It had been an extremely awkward meeting, especially since John made it plain and simple that he wasn't sticking around; he just wanted to see his daughter and, if her mother would allow it, take her out to lunch. Her mother had been reluctant to agree - and with good reason. As soon as they sat down at the table, before they even ordered their drinks, John had told her flat out that he didn't regret his decision to leave her behind and his paternal obligation was the only reason why he had come all the way from Nevada to see her.

His words affected her more than she was willing to admit, even to herself.

With an aggravated huff, Quinn pushed the memory aside. She didn't need to be recounting things of the past when she needed to focus on the present - gathering her courage to actually press the activation button on the console screen. It was difficult to say the very least. The last time Quinn had talked to her father, she had asked him for some credits to help pay for her school supplies - tuition was covered by the Academy, but her PADDs and lab fees weren't. To put it simply, he blew a fuse, throwing the biggest temper tantrum Quinn had ever witnessed in her life.

She didn't want another temper tantrum; he was imposing enough as it was in his relaxed state, but when he was angry? He was a vicious sight to behold, a sight that sent an icy chill through her body, made the pit of her stomach sink down past her clattering knees.

"Screw it," she muttered to herself, snaking her hand out from underneath her thigh and jabbing a finger at the button. The dark screen flickered to life, asking her to input the name and location of her desired contact. Quinn picked up the wrinkled napkin from her bedside table, read the information, and quickly punched the data into the computer, continually reminding herself that it was best if she got the necessary out of the way before it grew. How did that old saying go? Grab the bull by its -

"Quinn?" a sharp voice barked, calling the brunette to attention rather abruptly.

She looked up at the display image, trying to arrange her features into a pleasant smile, though she probably appeared to be in a great amount of pain. "Hi," she said uneasily, twisting her fingers into a complicated knot.

A crease formed between John's stern brows. He was a very impatient man and hated when people stalled. Just like his daughter was doing right now. He decided to cut to the chase; no need to skate around pleasantries. "What do you want this time? Do you need more credits?" His tone was accusatory, his eyes stony as ever.

She trembled under the weight of his gaze and tried not to let her anxiety show in her face. Instead she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin upward, imagining herself to be the image of defiance without much success. "Can't a girl send a transmission to say hello?" she asked casually, her soft laugh obviously forced.

"No," he ground out impatiently. "We both know that you don't care that much."

The comment was a low blow, but it was true. She didn't care enough about him to go out of her way just to say hello, just like he didn't care enough about her to stick around to see her grow up. Still, hearing the words was painful and for the second time that day, she felt like she had been sucker-punched in the gut. The only difference was that the first time hadn't seared quite as much.

"So - _do_ you need more credits?"

Quinn took her bottom lip between her teeth again, gnawing on the flesh nervously. "I don't need more credits, but. . ." she trailed off, averting her gaze to her hands.

"'But' what? What did you do now?" He was exasperated now, annoyed by her hesitancy to tell him what she needed. Despite the fact John oftentimes acted like he didn't care, he did. Somewhat. She _was_ his child whether either of them liked it or not, and he _was_ obligated to take care of her. Even if taking care of her only included supporting her financially.

If it was anyone else, Quinn would have begged them not to get upset, but if she asked her father to keep his cool, he would most definitely blow his top. Which was something she wished to avoid, especially after last time. He'd been outraged when she had asked him for nearly two thousand credits to buy the appropriate PADDs for her classes. Instead, she tucked her hair behind her ear and said, "I dropped one of my PADDs today in the hallway and I'm going to need a new one."

"Why do you need a new one?" John questioned gruffly.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Because it broke when I dropped it. Well," she corrected, her eyebrows knitting together in concentration as she replayed the scene in her head. "I don't think it was the fall to the floor that ruined it - someone stepped on it when I was collecting the others and crushed the display -"

"I don't care how it got broken, Quinn!" John interjected loudly, suddenly, causing Quinn to jump in alarm. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times - I am not your own personal credit machine, goddamn it! Do you understand what that means? It means that I don't have endless amounts of credits to throw around! To waste on _you_."

Quinn flinched at his unexpected lash out, stung by his words as well as the contempt in which he spoke them. While she was able to swallow her bitter resentment towards the man she was forced to call her father, she wasn't able to get a handle on her temper. "It's not like I wanted to break it!" she returned indignantly, her voice rising in volume to match his.

John laughed dryly. "I'm sure you didn't, sweetheart," he spat like poison, a grimace twisting his hard mouth, "but how do I know that this isn't another ploy to get more credits out of me? Do you have proof? Answer me that, Quinn."

She blinked, too shocked to respond. Was he accusing her of lying to him? For monetary gain? Quinn scoffed loudly and glared at her father's projected image. "If this was a ploy to get more credits out of you, don't you think I would have come up with something better than a broken PADD? And I can't show you because -" she paused and licked her lips, once again consumed with anxiety at his words - "I threw it out."

"Well, isn't that convenient?" John asked rhetorically, sounding thoroughly disgusted with her. "I hate to break it to you, but you're going to have to find your own way to purchase a new PADD. I haven't sold any land transports this month, so my commission is low and I don't have any credits to spare."

She should have expected as much - he wasn't the reliable type. Still, she couldn't prevent the sinking feeling in her stomach. Quinn hated to ask her mother for financial help, especially when the woman had difficulties making ends meet. Tears pooled in her eyes. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Get a job," was his brusque answer. "Don't contact me unless it's something important."

The screen went blank and Quinn released a deep sigh, burying her hands in her hair. Sometimes she wished that he hadn't come back. That way, she could blindly hate him and not have to see the disappointment in his eyes when he looked at her.

- - -

_Two weeks later. . ._

Quinn didn't look up from her homework when her roommate bustled through the door.

"This was waiting outside for you," Charity said as she unzipped her uniform top and pulled it over her head in one swift movement.

Frowning at the interruption, Quinn set down her stylus and looked up at her roommate, who was holding a small, brown package in her hand. Immediately, she pursed her lips, staring at the foreign object with a carefully measure hesitance. "What is it?"

Charity shrugged. "I have no idea. Just take it." She tossed the parcel at Quinn, who caught it between slippery fingers.

She scooted to the edge of her mattress, turned the package over in her hand. It was very poorly wrapped, the brown paper crinkled and taped at the edges. For some reason, the hasty wrapping job made her smile. She slid her finger under the line of tape and broke the seal, pulling the paper away. Her mouth fell open in astonishment as she weighed the item in her hands.

It was her PADD - fully repaired and operational.

"Oh my God," Quinn breathed, her shaky fingers searching for the power switch on the side. She whooped with glee when the screen flickered to life. The screen wasn't nearly as bright as it had been and there were several dents in the exterior, but Quinn didn't care. It was fixed! She wouldn't have to find a way to fit a job into her already busy schedule and -

She slammed the brakes on her train of thought. Wait a minute. She had given the broken PADD to Kirk, which could only mean. . ._shit! _Not wanting to believe it, Quinn turned to her roommate, who was struggling to pull her leather boots away from her feet.

"Was there a note attached to this?" she asked airily, hoping that her innate curiosity wasn't blaringly obvious.

"No, I don't think there was," Charity answered, sending the girl across from her a frown. "I'm sorry."

Quinn waved a dismissive hand at her to hide her disappointment. "It's not your fault," she mumbled even though a large part of her would love to blame Charity. While her roommate wasn't a bad person, she was incredibly unreliable and tended to be a bit of a slacker. It didn't mar their relationship, but it also didn't encourage a strong friendship.

Just when Quinn was about to start drowning in her own self pity, her fingers felt the raises on the back of the PADD. Curiosity prickled every nerve-ending as she hurriedly flipped the small device over, running her fingers over the crude engraving. She had to bring the PADD ridiculous close to her face and squint her eyes in order to ready the cramped, hand-done inscription.

_We're even. _

She couldn't help smiling.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, first of all - thank you all SO much for reviewing! Even if you didn't review, thank you for adding me to your alert lists and whatnot; it's still appreciated, even though reviews get you lots more love. Haha, I'm kidding. Secondly, I must thank my wonderful beta, KD Skywalker. However, I was much too anxious to get this posted, so the last half of this chapter isn't editted, which would explain all of the mistakes that most likely cropped up - I just couldn't wait! Basically, if you see any mistakes, they're all mine, both grammatical and anything pertaining to technology. Like I've said several times before, I don't know much about Star Trek tech, but I've been trying to do research on it. Anyway, corrections are welcomed as is criticism, but only if it's constructive. Thanks for reading!_


	4. Three

__

A/N: I don't think I addressed this earlier and I felt that I should do it now before things became too confusing. The happenings of this story take place over the three years that Kirk and Quinn are at Starfleet Academy, meaning that there was lapses of time between each of the chapters. Some chapters are consecutive or occur within a few days/weeks of each other and others - mostly upcoming chapters - take place a few months/maybe even a year apart. I'll let you know when there have been significant leaps in time and while none have occurred just yet, like I said earlier, I thought it happened and everyone was all "wtf is going on?"

Also, I forgot to add one very important disclaimer. The title of this story is actually the title of my favourite Franz Ferdinand song off their new album, "Tonight". I would highly suggest that you go listen to "Bite Hard" because it describes Quinn and Kirk's relationship to a tee. Well, almost.

- - -

"No."

"Oh, come _on_, Quinn," Heidi whined, pushing her full lips into a pout. "It would mean a lot to me."

"No."

Heaving a heavy sigh, Heidi ducked under the table to retrieve her satchel and began rifling through it for her PADD. Once she found the personal computer, she quickly jabbed at the screen with the stylus, picking her way through the files until she found the desired folder. "Here," she said, pushing the PADD across the table.

Quinn looked up from her bowl of hot cereal, a scowl on her face. She hated being interrupted while she was eating. It was almost as bad as someone disturbing her sleep. She fought back a growl of disapproval, deciding that words were better. "What's this?" she asked skeptically, her gaze flickering to the visual display.

"Just read it. You'll love it," Heidi insisted brightly.

_Not likely_, Quinn thought to herself, her eyes roving over the information on the screen very briefly. She saw the word 'lecture' and immediately grimaced. "No," Quinn asserted with a firm shake of her head, her displeasure etched deeply into her face.

"You didn't even read the whole thing!" her friend protested.

"And I don't need to," the brunette replied through a mouthful of banana. She swallowed thickly before continuing, "What I read was only supplied me with further reasons _not_ to go." Heidi opened her mouth in protest, but Quinn held up a hand. "Please, Heidi. All I want is to eat my breakfast in peace."

The honey blonde continued to pout. "Fine," she mumbled, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned back in her chair. Her green eyes narrowed as she stared at Quinn, who was tucking into her breakfast with a tremendous amount of zeal. It was unfair - Quinn was able to eat whatever she wanted without gaining a pound. Granted, she also dragged herself out of bed at six o'clock every morning to take a few laps around the campus, but still. It was annoying to watch.

But Heidi was determined to change her friend's opinion, just give her a push in the right direction. "You'll be missing out," she began in a sing-song voice.

"Somehow I seriously doubt that," Quinn commented, jabbing the sausage link on her plate with more force than necessary. As much as she liked Heidi, there were times when the girl could be adamant to the point of being irritating. Now was one of those times, but Quinn swallowed whatever words she might have said; she didn't want to lose her only friend at Starfleet Academy over something so trivial.

"Did you know that Cadet Ryan is going to be there?" Heidi stated conversationally.

Quinn gazed steadily at her friend, searching for any sign that might suggest Heidi was pulling her leg. She found it several seconds later when the corner of Heidi's mouth twitched upward. Damn, it was disappointing, knowing that her friend was lying to her; Cadet Ryan had _such _a good ass. The loss of such a prospect made her frown at her plate, pick up the last piece of bacon, and shove it into her mouth. She might not have been an emotional eater, but everyone knew that bacon made everything that much better.

"I'm not changing my answer," Quinn said after a prolonged silence.

Heidi groaned loudly, slumping forward on the table and banging her forehead repeatedly against the surface. Once she was finished releasing her pent up frustration, she picked up her head and stared at the smirking girl on the opposite side of the table. "Why are you so opposed to this?" she demanded.

"I didn't say that I was opposed to it," Quinn answered, reaching for her glass of orange juice and chugging a third of its content. She licked the remaining droplets off her lips with the tip of her tongue. "I just don't want to go."

"Why not? It's going to be a lot of fun!"

She shot Heidi a skeptical look, a singular eyebrow arched high on her forehead. "A lecture hardly sounds like fun to me, Hides. Especially one on astrophobia."

"Please? It's not like I ask all that much of you."

Maybe it was the desperate note in her sweet voice. Maybe it was the pleading glimmer in her green eyes as she reached across the table and grabbed Quinn's hand. Or maybe it was that nagging voice in the back of her head that reminded Quinn that Heidi Lorenzo was a sweet girl with good intentions and possibly one of the best friends she'd ever had. Perhaps it was a combination of all three elements. Regardless, Quinn exhaled heavily and begrudgingly nodded her head.

"Fine. I'll go," she groused, shoving her empty plate away from her.

Heidi squealed loudly and launched herself out of her chair, stretching across the table to clumsily wrap her arms around Quinn's shoulders. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she chanted as she jumped up and down, jarring Quinn. After placing an affectionate kiss on the top of her head, Heidi released her and said, "We better get going - we'll want good seats for this lecture!"

Quinn rolled her eyes at the ceiling, wondering what in God's name she had just gotten herself into.

The minute they entered the auditorium, however, all of her doubts vanished and were quickly replaced by an innate curiosity at the sight of the red uniform behind the podium and the fantastic ass attached to it. Heidi had failed to mention that a cadet was giving the lecture - she had been expecting a stuffy old man with white hairs growing out of his ears, not a -

_Whoa._

She had stopped walking so abruptly that Heidi slammed into her back, sending both of the girls stumbling forward. Thankfully, Quinn was able to regain her footing before anything too terribly disastrous could happen, though the carpet burn on Heidi's palm looked mighty fierce.

"Why'd you stop walking?" Heidi asked irritably, inspecting her skinned hand with a frown.

She grabbed Heidi by the shoulders and spun her around so she was facing the podium and pointed at the man standing behind it. "_That's_ why," she whispered in her friend's ear, unable to hold back her smile as her eyes ran over the broad planes of his face, the swell of his bottom lip, and the seemingly permanent scowl that pulled his dark eyebrows together. She knew that she should have been put-off by the grimace, but she wasn't. . .which was odd.

"Oh," Heidi breathed, her bright eyes going wide. "He's _pretty_."

Quinn wrapped her hand around Heidi's upper arm and pulled her back. "Our seats are over there," she jerked her head in the opposite direction. When her friend showed no signs of moving, Quinn rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Jesus, Heidi, I can't take you anywhere."

"Me? _You're_ the one who caused a collision," the blonde pointed out as they scanned the crowd for a pair of open seats.

Luckily, Heidi found a cluster of her fellow science students and they had saved a few extra seats in case they saw someone they knew. The moment she sat down, Heidi began talking to her friends, which made Quinn uncomfortable. She wasn't good with new people, especially when she was thrust unceremoniously into the situation. She'd thought it was just going to be herself and Heidi, no one else. If she had known that Heidi had planned to meet up with some of her other friends, she wouldn't have bothered to come. Not when she had a mountain and a half of Astrophysics assignments waiting to be completed and sent off to her professor.

Biting back a growl of irritation, Quinn fidgeted in her chair until she was comfortable and swung her gaze to the front of the auditorium. It didn't take very long for her gaze to shift from the view screen on the left side of the stage to the man in the red uniform pacing back and forth, muttering something under his breath. True, he was handsome (at least, he _looked _it from afar), but he wasn't the hottest cadet on the campus. No, that title belonged to that annoying, cocksure idiot who decided to exercise his humanity and fix her PADD. But perhaps 'hot' wasn't the right word for the cadet onstage. . .

She was still trying to find an adequate adjective to describe him when the lights dimmed some ten minutes later. The loud chatter dropped to an excited whisper. Quinn glanced to her right at Heidi, who'd pulled her PADD out of her satchel and had her stylus poised, ready to take notes on the lecture. Quinn sat up a little straighter in her seat in an attempt to appear the least bit interested in the lecture and not just the person giving it.

"By a show of hands, who knows what astrophobia is?" the cadet addressed the audience in a gruff, no-nonsense voice, squinting out into the crowd to see the show of hands. Timidly, Quinn raised hers over her head - she knew what astrophobia was because she had a mild case of it.

"Right," the cadet continued, glaring at the front row for what seemed like no particular reason at all. "Those of you who didn't raise your hands, get out now. I've no time to deal with ignorant fools." When no one moved, he raised his voice. "I told you, get out! Every last one of yous. Don't make me wrangle you. I'm a doctor, damn it, not a cowboy!"

Despite the serious note and the volume of his voice, Quinn couldn't help but laugh aloud. Heidi threw her a murderous look and roughly elbowed Quinn in the side.

"Ouch!" Quinn hissed, rubbing the sore spot. "What'd you do that for?"

"Shhh! Are you trying to get us thrown out?" the other girl scolded heatedly. "I know you don't want to be here, Quinn, but _I_ do. This is important to me. Now sit back and stop laughing before you get us kicked out!"

Quinn blinked, stunned into silence. Well, she wasn't expecting that. Grumbling to herself, she massaged the tender area of flesh, turning her attention back to the lecture, which the doctor seemed determined to get through as quickly and thoroughly as possible.

"I don't do introduction, so if you don't know who I am, you can join the other imbeciles outside," the doctor said gruffly, his tone tainted by an underlying note of sarcastic amusement. "Second, don't ask questions. I hate interruptions."

Quinn smiled to herself - she liked this man and his dry, sarcastic manner - and settled into her chair, eyes trained to the front of the auditorium despite the fact she was hardly interested in the medical side of the lecture at all. No, she found herself in raptures over the way he spoke - the slight Southern lilt to his words that reminded her so much of Grandma Lottie. Also, she found his side comments about various statements made by "experts" and witty quips to be quite amusing, though they appeared to go over everyone else's heads as time after time, she was the only person in the audience laughing. Except those two times when she heard a much deeper, oddly familiar chuckle somewhere over her shoulder.

By the time, the lecture was over, her side ached from all the times Heidi jammed her unusually pointy elbow into Quinn's ribs. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that when she changed out of her uniform, she would be greeted by an unsightly purple bruise.

As soon as the lights came up, Heidi fell into an excited conversation in which every single detail of the doctor's speech was stripped down to the bare essentials and pondered. It was at this point in time that Quinn realized just how out of place she was.

"Hides," Quinn said, tapping her friend on the shoulder to get her attention. "I'm going to head out."

"Okay, that's fine," Heidi replied, waving a dismissive hand at her.

Quinn stared at the back of her friend's head, affronted. "Um, all right. I'll see you at dinner then."

"Actually," Heidi began tentatively, finally turning away from her circle of friends to address Quinn. "We're planning to eat off-campus for change. Supposedly, a new sushi bar opened up next to that pub you like to go to and rumor has it that it's _really _good." Quinn's face must have fallen because Heidi quickly added, "You can come along too, if you want!"

Several of Heidi's friends raised their eyebrows. Quinn swore one of the girls hissed. Clearly, she wasn't welcomed.

Quinn shook her head, adjusting the strap of her satchel on her shoulder. "No, it's fine. I'm not a big fan of sushi anyway."

"You sure?" Heidi asked, tilting her head to the side and regarding Quinn with a concerned, almost maternal expression. The pang of homesickness that shot through the latter was greatly unexpected and Quinn struggled to control her own face, not wanting Heidi to mistake the flicker of emotion for something else.

"Positive," Quinn answered with a firm nod of her head. "Besides, I have a lot of homework to do." She clapped her friend on her shoulder. "Go have some fun. Just don't get too liberal with the sake." She winked at Heidi, who laughed lightly, and shuffled out of the row, impatiently waiting for the cue in front of her to start moving.

Quinn was halfway to the door when she saw the doctor standing in a semi-circle with some students. Though the rigid line of his shoulders suggested discomfort, he gestured with his hands as he responded to the questions thrown at him. To say that his small audience was enthralled would be an understatement - they stared at him as though he was the center of the universe, something that made her snort derisively.

Unfortunately, the good doctor and his merry band of followers heard her as she passed them. "Do you have something to add to this conversation, cadet?" the doctor asked, raising a dark eyebrow at her.

"Well," she said, licking her lips as she took a step towards the small group. "I guess I just don't understand how they could have any further questions, is all." One of the girls released a noise of disgust. Quinn ignored her - the doctor looked interested now. "I thought your lecture was straightforward and to the point. I mean," she paused to tug at the strap of her pack, which continued to dig into her shoulder, "there's only so much that can be said about astrophobia."

At least four of the cadets surrounding the doctor opened their mouths in outrage to speak, most likely to ask the stereotypical "Oh, what do _you _know about it?" But the man was too fast for them, his tongue too quick. He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly and asked, "What'd you say your name was again, cadet?"

"I didn't."

"Oh, well, care to share with the class?" the doctor asked, eliciting appreciative chuckles from the scorned medical students.

Quinn knew a perfect opportunity when she saw one and this - well, this was one she just couldn't resist. After all, she loved making people eat their own words. "No, I don't think I will."

"No?" the good doctor repeated, sounding much more amused than his expression was letting on. "And why's that?"

"I don't do introductions," she responded with a sly smirk.

The doctor laughed. It was a harsh, almost bark-like sound, but it lessened the severity of his dark brown eyes, the sternness of his expression. His mouth twisted into what she supposed was his version of a smile, even though he looked like he had just popped a very sour piece of candy into his mouth.

"Well I'll be damned," the doctor drawled, a chuckle dancing on the edge of his voice as he took a step towards her, effectively closing the group of students out of their conversation. "I don't believe I've ever had my own words thrown back in my face."

"Stings a little, doesn't it?" Quinn said before she could help herself.

"Yeah, I guess it does," the doctor agreed with a short nod of his head, shooting a covert grin at her, almost like he was afraid for anyone else to see it. For some reason, this elicited the most peculiar sensation in the pit of her stomach. Almost. . .almost like she was _proud_ of herself for earning such attention from the doctor.

_Whose name I still don't know_, she reminded herself, suddenly aware that she was speaking to a stranger and not a friend.

"Suppose I'll have to watch what I say from here on out," the doctor added, his eyes watching her every move. Normally, Quinn would have squirmed under such a heavy gaze, desperately trying to find a way out of the situation, but for some reason, she found herself unable to move. _Unwilling_ to move.

"Where's the fun in that?" she asked playfully, unaware of how much she was flirting with the doctor until she giggled. Yes, giggled. Quinn didn't giggle. Sure, she laughed and chuckled and even sniggered. But she never giggled. Not unless she was flirting with someone. Which, clearly, she was.

The doctor didn't seem to mind. Quite the contrary, as soon as the rhetorical question left her mouth, he felt the need to answer it with a clever response of his own. She threw her head back and laughed loudly. The ease in which their conversation flowed surprised Quinn, for she normally had a difficult time finding common ground with a stranger, much less one of the opposite sex. But there was something about Dr. McCoy - she learned his name after one of the medical professors congratulated him on such a good lecture - that she liked. A part of her believed it was the occasional outburst of overwhelming Southern charm while another argued that it was a combination of his intellect and quick wit that pulled her in and did the impossible: actually captured her full attention.

In fact, their conversation continued so fluidly, so seamlessly that both parties nearly jumped out of their skins when her wrist chrono began to beep loudly. "Sorry," she mumbled, blushing furiously as she ducked her head and pushed back her sleeve to silence the incessant chirping. Her eyes widened at the sight of the time. "Shit!"

McCoy arched an eyebrow at her. "Got somewhere you need to be?"

"No," Quinn said, looking back at the doctor. "It's not that. I've just - well, I've got a lot of homework that I need to do and -"

"I understand," McCoy interrupted, almost as if he was disappointed - which he didn't show it, which in turn disappointed Quinn. Perhaps she was reading too far into this, but she thought that. . .well, maybe she was just too eager. It _had _been so long since the last time she - hold it! There was no way that her mind - no, she didn't even _know_ the guy and yet she was considering the possibility of - of hooking up with him for some action?

Quinn shook her head to herself. She needed to get out of there. Preferable now. Before she said or did anything stupid, the chances of which seemed to be increasing by the minute. First, she actually initiated a conversation by flirting - the last time she had allowed that to happen, she ended up getting played by her backstabbing roommate and the farm boy with an adorable smile and irresistible charm. Then she continued said conversation, completely forgetting about her massive stack of homework and a little thing called dinner. To top it all up, her mind had begun to form delusions of grandeur about the doctor and the possibility of "getting some".

"That's not going to happen," she muttered, shoving a hand through her hair.

"What'd you say?"

Shit. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. "I should go."

A beat of painfully awkward silence passed between them before Quinn smiled tightly at the doctor and turned away, making a frantic beeline towards the door. Blood rushed to her face, turning the tips of her ears a dark red. Aside from the heat of her blush, Quinn could feel the doctor's curious eyes burning a hole through her back. She could only imagine the thoughts passing through his mind; she wouldn't blame him for thinking her a bumbling idiot.

Just as she reached the door, he called out after her. "Hey! Wait a minute!"

She stopped, dropped her hand away from the sensor panel, and looked over her shoulder at McCoy, who lingered at the foot of the stage. "What?"

"I never got your name!"

"You don't need my name," she said.

"Well, dammit, how the hell do you expect me to ask you out then?"

Her face burned as she laughed, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and gnawing on it. She considered her options. She could tell him outright and put him out of his misery and perhaps even enjoy a date sooner rather than later. Or she could keep her name to herself and see if he liked her well enough to go to certain extremes to find out her name. While the latter would be the reassurance she was looking for, the former would be easier and besides, it _had _been a while since she had gone out on a legitimate date with someone who seemed interested in her. Even if she didn't "get some", there was a certain amount of appeal to it.

Quinn pressed her palm against the sensor panel, causing the door to whoosh open. Before she passed through, she said, "It's Quinn."

"Quinn what? I'll need a last name if I'm going to send you a 'mission."

"Come on, doctor," she began, an impish grin on her face. "How many other Quinns on this campus do you think there are?"

As she disappeared through the door, the grimace returned to McCoy's face. "That's what I'm afraid of," he grumbled to himself, hoping against all hopes that this Quinn wasn't the same one as Jim's. Because after all the horrible things he heard about that girl. . .well, it was suffice to say that he would rather argue with his ex-wife than find out they were one in the same.

* * *

_A/N 2: As always, thanks to my awesome beta, KD Skywalker and, of course, my readers and reviewers. I appreciate each and every one of the reviews I get and if I haven't responded to yours yet, let me know and I'll try to drop you a line. I hope you liked! _


	5. Four

_A/N: As always, I must thank my wonderful beta, KD Skywalker. She's been a driving force throughout this relatively short story, but her presence and encouragement is always appreciated! Also, as you might have surmised thus far, I don't own Star Trek, which sadness me greatly. And last but not least, thanks to everyone who has reviewed thus far. If I haven't responded to your review, please let me know in your review for this chapter so I may do so. Thanks for sticking with me so far. I promise things are going to start getting interesting soon!_

* * *

Jim Kirk blinked in surprise, unsure if he was seeing what his brain was processing.

Perhaps it was the fatigue that often accompanied the ending of one of Bones' lectures. Or maybe it was the lack of caffeine he had ingested that morning after a long night of heavy drinking and partying with very little sleep. Regardless of the cause, he knew that there must be some sort of delusion-oriented explanation behind it; because there was absolutely no way in hell that his best friend was flirting. In public. With the girl he - well, how _did _he feel about her?

At the moment, Kirk wasn't very pleased with Quinn McKnight.

For one, he had spent the better part of two weeks fixing something that didn't even belong to him. Granted, he _had _broken her PADD when he stepped on it, but it had been an accident. As much as he enjoyed getting a rise out of her, he hadn't intentionally destroyed the hand-held computer; they were expensive. Besides, at the time, he didn't even know that the PADD belonged to Quinn. It was just a coincidence; he hadn't expected to ever see her again, much less at Starfleet Academy. Anyway, he had dedicated almost a week of his time to researching the technology within the confides of the metal exterior - time he could have wasted on much more stimulating activities such as that cute Asian girl from his First Contact Protocol class - and another week fixing the twisted mess of wires before he was able to return it to her.

Kirk told himself that he had only fixed her PADD because he felt guilty for breaking it and he did, but it wasn't the entire truth. No, he had repaired the damaged PADD to prove that he wasn't as bad of a guy as she made him out to be. Not that he cared about her opinion - he just didn't want her spreading unpleasant rumors about him across campus, even though she didn't seem like the type of girl to resort to such tactics. But what did he know of her? After all, he had been expecting a thank you or at least some sort of acknowledgement for his work, but he had received none.

That alone was enough to evoke a bad taste in the back of his mouth. Never mind the fact that she was making Bones laugh. Kirk shook his head to himself. He gritted his teeth, swallowing the unexpected wave of anger. It was stupid to be angry with her over this. Bones deserved to have a good laugh every now and again, but Jim couldn't deny the surge of jealousy, of possessiveness. _He_ was supposed to be the only one capable of evoking laughter from the temperamental, sarcastic doctor. Not some girl with knobby knees and the tendency to hold grudges.

Jim rolled his eyes as he watched her throw her head back and laugh, playfully swatting at McCoy's arm. The doctor in question seemed to be enjoying the attention. For the first time in a long while, he looked relaxed, the lines of his face much less severe. Jim wanted to hate Quinn for being such an ungrateful bitch, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. However, he could intervene. If there was one thing that James Tiberius Kirk was good at - aside from thinking quick on his feet and picking up women - it was meddling. When he was a kid, he discovered that he had a knack for mucking things up beyond recognition. The talent only increased with age.

He waited until Quinn had left the auditorium, the door hissing shut behind her, before rising from his rather uncomfortable seat and making his way down the steps. Bones was still staring after her, though the hardness had returned to his face, when Jim clapped him on the shoulder. Startled, the doctor jumped about a foot in the air before turning to Jim, his dark eyes narrowed.

"Damn it, Jim, don't do that to me," McCoy grumbled, tugging on the hem of his shirt in irritation. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Obviously," Jim deadpanned, earning himself another stare of deepest loathing. He returned the glare with a mischievous smile, his eyes twinkling innocently. "So," he drawled conversationally as he leaned against the stage, "who was that?"

Beside him, McCoy visibly tensed. "Who was who?"

Was it just Jim or did the doctor sound oddly defensive despite his best efforts to feign ignorance? He combated the smirk threatening to worm its way onto his face to the best of his ability, but he wasn't very successful; the left side of his mouth twitched. "You know who I'm talking about," Jim commented, nodding towards the closed door, which Bones kept glancing at, an almost-wistful expression on his face. Almost like he was hoping she would reappear.

"No, I don't."

Jim rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe that McCoy was being this evasive over something so inconsequential. The only times the doctor acted like this was when Jim impatiently prodded him for answers, trying to figure out why his friend had drunk himself into a stupor.

"The brunette with the legs," he clarified. "What'd she want?"

"Oh, her?" McCoy ignored the 'duh' look he received from the younger man at his side as he formulated his response. He chose his words carefully in hopes of making them sound much more believable. "She had some questions about the lecture," he responded tersely. "Even though I thought I explained everything very clearly and -"

"Cut the bullshit, Bones," Jim interrupted swiftly. "We both know that Quinn didn't want to know more information about your incredibly boring lecture."

The doctor flinched at the sound of her name. "She seemed to find it stimulating," McCoy said stiffly, the defensive note returning to his voice.

"If by that you mean she found _you _stimulating, then I agree one hundred percent," Jim retorted, ducking before the doctor could slap him on the back of the head. "No need to get so defensive -" he paused to raise a brow "or is there?"

McCoy scowled at him. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not _implying_ anything, just making observations based on what I saw," Jim said airily.

"Which was. . .?"

"An obscene amount of flirting," Jim answered with a smirk. "On both parts."

"What's it to you, Jim?" McCoy questioned archly, grabbing his satchel off the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. He tugged once, tightening the strap. "You flirt all of the time."

"I do," Jim agreed as they made their way towards the door. He placed his palm on the sensor and the door whooshed open. He stepped through first, pivoting on his heel so he could face his friend while he walked - backward. "But you, my friend, _don't_."

"I flirt!" McCoy objected loudly, causing several curious heads to whip in their direction as they traversed down the hall. One girl giggled. A harsh glare from the medical doctor quickly silenced her laughter, and she lowered her gaze, hurrying into her class.

"No," Jim said as they rounded a corner and made for the exit. "You don't." The doors opened when they approached and they stepped out into the bright afternoon. Both men squinted as the harsh rays of the sun unleashed their fury on their corneas. It took several moments for their vision to return to normal. Once adjusted, they continued down the steps.

"At least, not successfully," he added as an afterthought, a wry smile on his face.

McCoy rolled his eyes, releasing a sharp, impatient sigh. He stopped walking and sent a pointed look at his friend. "Look, Jim," he said carefully, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "If you have something to say, just say it. I don't have time to listen to your bullshit."

The smile on Jim's face fell at the serious note in his friend's voice. His opportunity to wheedle Bones for information had come to an end, which was disappointing to say the very least, especially since the opportunity rarely presented itself. However, he didn't wish to fuel the fire that was McCoy's irrationally quick temper and therefore swallowed any dry remarks his brain had created.

"Don't go out with her."

Jim hadn't planned on being so blunt, but McCoy preferred bluntness to hesitance. Could a little more tact have been employed? Sure. But this was Jim Kirk. Though he knew what tact was, he didn't use it. Why not when a more direct approach could have been taken? The only reason why he hadn't proclaimed his feelings outright was because teasing Bones was just too much damn fun.

It was obvious that McCoy wasn't expecting this sudden statement - if his baffled expression was anything to go by, of course. However, the moment of disbelief quickly passed as his dark eyes narrowed into their characteristic scowl and his brow furrowed. It was very clear that he wasn't pleased by Jim's words.

"What?"

"Don't go out with her," Jim repeated firmly. "She's bad news."

"You don't know what you're talking -"

"Actually," Jim interjected rudely, his tone uncharacteristic sharp, "I do." He could hardly keep his impatience out of his voice. Dragging his tongue across his bottom lip, he continued, "That girl you were talking to - she's the same one I was telling you about. You know, the one from the bar back in Cedar Rapids?"

"The heinous bitch?" McCoy said with a note of surprise, recalling his friend's exact words. When Jim confirmed his guess with a nod of his head, McCoy frowned then shook his own head. He refused to believe it; they couldn't be the same person! It was inconceivable: the young woman he had just been talking to was much too pleasant, too _funny_ to be the bitch from the bar in Cedar Rapids that, for some odd reason, Jim kept mentioning.

McCoy voiced his disbelief. "I don't think it's the same -"

"Trust me, Bones, it's the same girl," Jim insisted. The doctor didn't look convinced, so he tried a different approach. "Don't you find it curious that I knew her name before you even told me what it was?" he questioned, quirking a brow in askance.

When McCoy didn't respond, Jim clapped him on the shoulder. "Just consider what I said, okay?"

"Fine," McCoy growled before stomping away, most likely headed to his lonely dorm to drink away his disappointment.

Jim frowned to himself - he hated being the cause of anyone's disappointment, much less his best friend's.

- - -

It took three whole days for McCoy to muster up the courage to send a transmission to Quinn. He had been hesitant for a number of reasons, the primary one being her reaction to his proclamation - he wouldn't be able to go out with her. Since he didn't know her very well - they'd only spoken the one time after his lecture - he wasn't sure how she was going to react, which was potentially problematic, especially if she was the overly emotional sort. While McCoy doubted that she would erupt into tears, he couldn't say that she wouldn't explode and launch into an angry tirade. From what Jim had said, her buttons were very easily pushed.

_Then again_, McCoy thought to himself as he searched through the cadet directory for her contact information. _It's Jim; somehow, he manages to locate and press everyone's buttons. Including mine._

When her information appeared on the view screen, McCoy hesitated. From the short amount of time they had chatted, he had gathered that she was extremely intuitive and would know something was amiss the moment he activated the transmission feed. Which was a problem, considering that he didn't have a legitimate reason formulated as to why he couldn't take her out.

Despite this, he pressed the send button and waited for her to accept his request to open a feed.

The screen blinked to life several moments later.

"Hey!" Quinn greeted enthusiastically, a wide smile on her pretty face as she gave a small, completely unnecessary wave of her hand. Her hair was thrown back into a messy bun and she wasn't wearing any make up, which suggested that she was beginning to get ready for bed.

McCoy glanced at the chronometer on his bedside table - it was a little past eleven thirty, though she didn't seem angry at the lateness of his call. Quite the contrary, she looked ecstatic, her dark brown eyes warm with mirth, which made this all the more difficult. Inwardly, he swore.

"Hello," was his gruff reply.

She ignored the callous greeting, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear instead. "I was beginning to think that you'd forgotten about me," she joked lightly.

_As if_, McCoy grumbled to himself. She had been the only thing on his mind these past few days, and not necessarily in a good way either.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she said hurriedly, gnawing on her bottom lip nervously. The silence between them was painful, completely unlike their impromptu conversation following his seminar on astrophobia. "So," she said uncertainly, "how've you been?"

"Fine. You?"

Quinn furrowed her brow, confused by his short, terse responses. Had she read too far into their conversation? Had she been too optimistic about his promise to ask her out? Had he been pulling her leg? She gave her head a small shake, trying her hardest not to frown.

"I've been alright," she answered with a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders. "A little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of homework I've been -"

Quinn was surprised when he cut her off mid-sentence.

"Look, Quinn," McCoy said in an oddly patronizing voice. She stiffened at the tone, the urge to frown fleeing to the deepest recesses of her mind as her agitation began to seep through. What gave him the right to address her like a child? To talk down to her? She might have been a few years younger than him, but she was still an adult and deserved to be treated like one. "I don't think I can take you out tonight-"

"I wasn't expecting you to," she spewed in a defensive scoff.

" - or ever."

Her mouth went dry. "Excuse me?"

"I said that -"

"No," she disrupted shortly, her agitation giving way to anger. She saw McCoy's eyes go wide very briefly; apparently, he hadn't been expecting this reaction from her. "I heard what you said, I'm not an idiot." She folded her arms over her chest and glared at the screen. "I just want to know why you said it."

McCoy sighed heavily, passing a hand over his face. How was he going to put this? Quinn appeared to be a tough girl, able to handle shit when it was thrown at her, but he doubted that even he could say what he wanted to say without hurting her feelings.

"I don't think that it would be a good idea."

"Why not?" she asked before she could help herself. Immediately, she felt like a fool. And a very desperate fool at that.

"I just don't think we should, is all."

Quinn gave an extravagant roll of her eyes, unable to believe what she was hearing. Just when her faith in men had begun to ferment, McCoy pulled something like this. Typical. "How articulate," she spat sardonically.

Like a solar flare, McCoy's anger sparked to life at once. His chest swelled; he even went as far as wagging a finger at the view screen. "Listen here, woman, just because you don't like what I have to say doesn't mean that you have to mock -"

"Damn right I don't like what you have to say!" Quinn exclaimed, clearly affronted. "You were the one who wanted to take me out on a date, so excuse me for being the least bit offended when you do a complete one-eighty and decide that it wouldn't be a good idea. What sort of excuse is that anyway?" Out of habit, she cracked her knuckles. "And don't call me 'woman'!" she added as an afterthought.

"A poor one," McCoy admitted, pointedly ignoring her last remark. He ran a hand over his jaw line. "At this point in time, I don't think that it would be a good idea for me to - er - get involved with someone."

She should have known it was too good to be true, that _he _was too good to be true. Her stomach sank as her mind considered the possibility that he was already attached. "Oh my God, you're married, aren't you?" Quinn groaned loudly, dropping her head into her hands.

She heard him chuckle. "No, I'm not married. Not anymore, anyway," he added bitterly.

With a sigh, she picked up her head, pushing her hair away from her face. She frowned at the screen. "Is that why?"

"Is what why?"

"Your divorce - is that why you don't want to go out?"

He opened his mouth to dismiss her assumption, but immediately closed his mouth, reconsidering. This could be his excuse. . .why hadn't he thought of it before? McCoy knew the answer: it was because he did want to go out with her, but he had taken Jim's words to heart. His best friend was a lot of things, but a liar wasn't one of them. Besides, when he had asked a few of his fellow cadets what they thought about her, they all could say that she was indifferent and impartial, not very social and somewhat stand-offish. He hadn't seen these personality traits when he had talked to her, but perhaps he was blinded by her pretty smile, easy sense of humor, and the fact he hadn't been with a woman in over a year.

"Yeah," McCoy finally said. "That's why."

When she smiled apologetically at him, his stomach felt heavy with guilt. He didn't deserve her sympathy and more importantly, he didn't want it. Not over something he felt nothing but bitterness and resentment towards.

"I'd better get going," he said softly, not meeting her eyes in fear of what he might see there. That was the last thing he needed - to go back on what he said and make himself out as a bigger jackass than he already had.

"Yeah," she agreed hollowly as she leaned forwards. "Goodbye."

"Bye."

The screen went black.

- - -

While Quinn certainly wasn't heartbroken, she _was_ dissatisfied with the state of things between herself and McCoy. For some reason, when she had been talking to McCoy via transmission, she had a feeling that he wasn't being entirely honest with her. That his recent divorce wasn't the only reason why he didn't want to go out with her. She knew it was stupid to think that he would lie to her - he had absolutely nothing to gain by lying to her. But she couldn't ignore the feeling in her stomach nor the insatiable curiosity that accompanied the sensation whenever she replayed the conversation over in her head, trying and failing to pinpoint any moments in which she might have made a mistake.

It was silly to think that she was getting so upset over someone she had only spoken to on two occasions, the second of which hadn't gone as she had hoped. She'd thought there was something between. Sure, it might not have been magnetic; it wasn't even an electricity. No, it was more of a connection formed by the unspoken yet common ground they shared. Both were fairly reserved people who had very little tolerance for stupidity. Their sense of humor was eerily alike in its dryness and bluntness.

Obviously, she had been wrong; like most things, she had read too far into it.

A part of her mind entertained that all she wanted from McCoy was the human contact. Sure, Heidi was a fantastic friend and she spoke to her family often through transmissions, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the contact that she needed, it wasn't the kind she wanted. She wanted _physical_ contact, considering the last time she had been near to it, it had turned out to be a complete farce.

A scowl worked its way onto her face as the image of Jim Kirk's face flashed through her mind; she pointedly ignored the way her lips burned as her mind recalled their brief contact with each other. He might have fixed her PADD, but still, he was a jerk. And a huge one at that. Her roommate, Charity, was proof of that. The poor girl was foolish enough to fall victim to his arresting charms. Though they hadn't done much more than kiss (or so she claimed), Charity had sobbed her heart out against Quinn's shoulder for the better part of three hours, saying that she had been led on by the world's most beautiful man. While Quinn didn't think that he was the world's most beautiful man - though, admittedly, he was pretty damn close - she nevertheless gave Charity a comforting hug and said that she knew what it felt like. She merely neglected to tell her roommate that she, too, had been played by the charming farm boy.

With a heavy sigh, Quinn tore her eyes away from the homework she hadn't really been paying attention to in the first place to shake back her sleeve and look at her watch. It was very nearly lunchtime, which explained why her stomach felt so very hollow and why she was having trouble concentrating on her work. She returned her attention back to he PADD and tapped the appropriate buttons with the tip of her stylus, saving her work to the memory bank before shutting the small device down. She stored the PADD in her satchel and gathered up her belongings. As soon as she had sat down underneath the towering oak, she had pulled off her boots and tossed them aside, glad to be rid of the things. She'd been at Starfleet for nearly two months and still, her boots blistered her feet. Another grimace of displeasure worked its way onto her face as she tugged her boots back on, wincing as the leather scraped over a fresh blister, and zipped them up.

Like always, she pulled at the hem of her skirt when she stood up. God, she hated the stupid uniforms - why did the male cadets get to wear pants yet female cadets were stuck in unbelievably short skirts? It was one of the many things that bothered her about Starfleet, but so far, the good outweighed the bad. Quinn hoped it stayed that way.

As she meandered down the pathway towards the mess hall, Quinn let her eyes rove over the campus of Starfleet Academy. At first, she had convinced herself that the grounds were revolting. If she let herself believe that it was beautiful - and it was - then she'd begin to feel at home, and she didn't want that. Not at first, anyway. It took her a while to realize that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing, feeling at home at the academy. After all, she _was_ going to be living here for the next few years of her life - she might as well make herself comfortable. And she did with a little help from Heidi and Charity, whom she was beginning to grow rather close to.

As pretty as San Francisco was, Quinn knew that Starfleet Academy would never bring the same amount of satisfaction and warmth into her life like the house in Kansas City. She had lived in the same house her entire life up until a year ago when she had made the decision to move to Cedar Rapids, Iowa to live with her grandmother for a while - she was sick of her siblings breathing down her neck at every opportunity that presented itself, which was frighteningly often when all five of them lived within fifteen miles of the house. It was strange, being away from home for so long; even when she lived in Cedar Rapids, she made a point of taking a transport to see her mother and Xavier, her youngest and only sibling who still lived at home.

Pushing the thoughts of home out of her mind, she swept her gaze over the courtyard and the fountain situated in the center of it. Though there was normally a fairly dense crowd gathered around the fountain as it was a perfect location for meeting up with friends before embarking for class, today, there was more so than usual. Some students sat on the edge of the fountain, chatting ideally with a small group of buddies while other, much larger groups stood in circles, talking and laughing loudly.

Quinn was just about to pull her gaze away and continue on her path when she saw it. Or rather, when she saw them.

Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy.

Talking to one another.

Like they were friends.

She stopped walking at once, her brain too overwhelmed by her curiosity to do much else but stare. She tilted her head to the side, observing them with rapt attention. Kirk gesticulated a lot while he talked, and McCoy wore an interested, slightly amused expression. Immediately, she wondered what they were talking about. After all, what were the chances that they were discussing anything other than class. Slim to none, she told herself as she hitched the strap of her bag further up her shoulder. There was no way that an intelligent man like McCoy would ever be friends with an arrogant jerk like Jim Kirk.

It seemed as though the world was determined to prove her wrong, for naught but a handful of seconds later, McCoy laughed reluctantly, most likely at something Kirk had said. Before she could convince herself that it was merely a coincident, a rare stroke of brilliance on Kirk's part, the doctor surprised her and rubbed her nose in her assumptions all at once. He punched Kirk on the arm in an affectionate I'll-see-you-later way before turning on his heel and heading into one of the academic buildings.

Quinn's mind was still processing what she'd just seen when Jim Kirk met her gaze from across the courtyard. The moment his lips pulled back into his characteristic - and quite frankly, charismatic - smirk, she knew. Suddenly, everything made perfect sense; the missing pieces of the puzzle fell into place. McCoy's sudden change in attitude, the gut feeling that he was lying to her - it made sense. Because of that, she wasn't nearly as mad at McCoy for lying to her as she should have been. In fact, it was the very last thing on her mind. Why, you ask? Because the real reason behind McCoy's lie was currently leering at her, an eyebrow cocked in amusement.

Her hand curled into a fist and before she knew it, she was veering away from her path to the mess hall and walking towards the fountain, towards Kirk. His smile grew wider as she drew nearer, his blue eyes becoming clearer, easier to read. As expected, they glittered with a seemingly endless mirth. Why he looked so damn pleased to see her was beyond Quinn; they argued every time they encountered one another. Regardless, the smirk would be easy enough to fix.

The dimple appeared in his cheek as she drew up to him.

"So you've finally come to thank me, have -"

_**CRACK!**_

It was a pain unlike any other she had ever known. Her knuckles screamed out as she felt his nose shatter under the force of her punch, the deep ache traveling up her arm at lightening speed. A sticky warmth oozed onto her skin as she pulled her fist back, read to punch him a second time. But then the pain returned to her hand in full-force, immobilizing her.

"Fuck!" she cried out in unison with Kirk, who was cupping his nose in his hands, blood dripping through the cracks of his fingers.

"What the hell was that for?" Kirk shouted at her, his voice muffled by his hands.

"McCoy!"

"What!?" His expression was thunderous - well, as thunderous as one's expression could be with a bleeding nose and rapidly swelling face. "He told you to punch me?!?"

"Yes, you're best friend told me to punch you," she replied sarcastically, cradling her hand against her chest, her knuckles throbbing. She tried to move her fingers, but her index and middle finger didn't respond. When she looked down at her hand, her stomach dropped to her knees. The urge to vomit was overwhelming. So much so that she stumbled over to the fountain, leaned over the edge, and threw up in the water. She could barely hear the shouts of her fellow cadets over the roaring in her ears.

She dry-heaved several more times before a heavy hand came down on her shoulder. Thinking that it was the audacious bastard Kirk, Quinn brought her fist back as she wheeled around, but someone caught her fist in their unusually warm hand. She screamed out in pain as bursts of white light appeared before her eyes, the world suddenly spinning.

When her fist was mercifully released a few seconds later, she looked up to see to whom the hand belonged. As the color drained from her face, she suddenly wished she hadn't.

"Come with me, cadet," ordered Commander Spock, his sharp gaze meeting hers for the briefest of moments.

Quinn did as she was told.


End file.
